When Doves Cry
by Falafal
Summary: In a world of deceit, lust and crime, who knew one death could bring the makings of the deadliest crime war. Alternate Universe, GotenXParis, GotenX?, TrunksX?
1. Prolouge

Title: When Doves Cry - Prologue

Author: Falafal

Pairing: Gohan/Videl Bulma/Vegeta, Goten/OC (For now! ;o))

Rating: Pg-13

Warning: Violence, AU (Alternate-Universe)

Disclaimer: I don't own any aspect of the Dragon Ball Z world, nor do I own 'When Doves Cry' (Prince) or quotes that pop up every chapter. But if you're willing to sell them for, let me see… half an Easter egg, one of those big ones that take at least an hour to eat, you can have that.

Summary: An AU set in a darker DBZ world the Saiyans are simple humans trying to make their way in the world. In a world of deceit, lust and crime, who knew one death could bring the makings of the deadliest crime war. This is my first try at a total Au fic, where 'Crimson Espy' is Au due to event changes in the story line, in this fic the official series didn't happen at all.

A/N: My muse kept bugging me to write this prologue and has been flooding my mind with endless chapter possibilities. So I had to get this on fanfiction.net. What do you think?

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"How can you just leave me standing?

Alone in a world that's' so cold?" Prince – 'When Doves Cry'

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Prologue

Only half focusing on the task before him, Master Roshi let the water dribble from the green hose in his hand. He watched with a bland face as the freshly made stream picked up the dry topsoil. His free hand cupped a budding rose, it's white petals peaking through the surrounding leaves. As a thorn pricked his skin he ignored the pain and wiped at the blood. 

"I'm sorry my dears"

Taking a step along the short row of bushes, which lined the small front of his wooden panel house. The water continued to wash over the roots as he looked up into the orange sky,

"Orange sky at night shepherd's delight, orange sky in the morning sailor's warning"

He continued to study the sky as clouds washed over the setting sun, darkening the sky. The only light being the streaks of light, which escaped the clouds. When the birds chirping softly suddenly silenced the aged man commented, 

"I don't think those feathers agree, do you?"

An inhuman grunt, which could be translated as an agreement made itself known from behind him. He twisted his head around to see a green tortoise staring up at him. Before he could turn back he saw the peeling yellow paint on the house walls,

"I should get those kids to paint that," he thought for a moment, "They never come around anymore. Krillin should bring that cute wife of his around for a visit."

The old man let out a small chuckle and his mind wandered, forgetting about the running water. 

"Goku would have painted it, such a good heart that kid…" his brow furrowed, "…in a way."

He sighed and shook his head as a feeling of failure swept over him, his head dropped,

"His brother's too busy to paint my wall. Look at what he's doing!" he emphasised his words by throwing his right hand up in the air. This was met by the cry of teenage girls, which pulled the teacher from his daze. He immediately let his hand drop, the water soaking the lawn. 

His face lit up, a smile stretching as his cheeks reddened,

"Hey, sorry girls" The old man let out a chuckle as he watched the two teens continue down the path, their hair damp. Before they disappeared behind a large oak the shorter, a brunette, waved and turned her head as she walked blindly,

"That's ok Mr. Roshi. We needed…"

But her words were drowned out by the sudden screeching of breaks as a car could be heard speeding in their direction. The girls stopped and turned to look back down the street, but towering oaks and storied houses blocked their view. A soft wind had picked up, which washed leaves down onto the street and Roshi had to take a step forward to see the end of the street.

For a moment he thought it was Goten. That kid was a danger to all, he had lost count of the times his student's son had skidded around the street corner and when he stopped he seemed no more worse for wear as music shook the very nuts and bolts of that vehicle he calls transportation. It seemed for a moment his wish for a new coat of paint would come true. And although he had designated himself a hermit by never contacting those he knew, he humored them by moving into town. 

'It will give you a social life' they had said. After experiencing what was meant to be an old man's social life, which consisted of pruning roses and waving to passers-by, he would much rather return to his small hut by the sea. Alone.

He turned his attention back to the approaching car, which slowed slightly on its approach. Roshi bit his lip as he tried to recognise the car, then sighed, so it wasn't for him. He turned to walk back into the house when he heard his name screamed out in panic. But there was no way he was able to distinguish its owner, he had no time to think, his mind was unable to roll over the possibilities.

Shifting his vision he was able to catch the moment when one of his windows shattered, the wooden frame splintering beside it. Fire shot through his back, making its way quickly to his chest as he fell into the grass, his ears ringing with the loud cracks shaking the air. His breathing came in short and fast, his feeling fading, vision blurring. It was all he could do to stay conscious as his chest screamed, head twisting under pressure. The darkness was a relief when it arrived just seconds later, propelled into black, just drifting, painless.

There was no way the old teacher could sense the water as it sprayed from the hose into the ground, soaking his front. No way he could have felt the pain that shot through the brunettes shoulder, radiating from the growing stain on her white shirt. No way he could watch his own blood drift, washing into the soil, drifting with the water flow. He had fallen, softly comforted in darkness.

An expression of surprise, of fear mixed in with the smile frozen on his face.


	2. Superman

Title: When Doves Cry 1? – Superman

Author notes: I want to thank Nyberger13 and pyroyori for reviewing and enjoying my story. I'm sorry it has taken so long to get this chapter up, I haven't had any time to write anything in at least a month. I hope you still like this chapter. Please let me know if something seems weird.  
Oh, sorry for the format problems, I did have dividers in but it seems the editor took them out. Ah well, I'm putting them back in,

Warnings: Mild swearing

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"Fly by Frankie thinks he's superman. Like a child at the wheel of a rocket. He comes 'round here with a license to love. But I don't know where he got it" _Throw it away_ – Delta Goodrem

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The teen felt his hands shake with the compression of his fist, and despite soft protection over his ears, the loud cracks still shook his eardrums. He shifted his feet, blinking his eyes before returning his gaze to the black silhouette. The metal, cold in his hands, felt somehow natural and the danger it brought comforting him.

'_Two left'_

Readjusting the orange glasses covering a large portion around his eyes, Goten picked a spot on the target and pulled the trigger. The bullet struck through the thin target, bringing a smile to his face.

'_One left'_

Breathing out he squeezed the trigger releasing the bullet. But it was at the same time that a bright tone struck his ears, his pocket vibrating, causing him to jump in surprise. His aim was thrown off and the bullet slammed into the metal wall behind, a meter from the target.

Slouching in disappointment, the dark haired student pushed the large shielding glasses up into his hair before pulling the small phone from his pocket. Then turning around he answered the ringing contraption,

"Hello?"

But the reply was drowned out by the voice of a lecturing man,

"What was that? I've told you not to get distracted boy!"

Sticking his head out of the cubicle, he looked into the room behind, catching his uncle's eyes as his head turned about.

'_Like he has a social life…'_

Twisting the phone so he was not speaking directly into the mobile, Goten replied with a cheeky smile,

"I got all but one, I've got a life you know. So lay off" Sticking out his tongue to the back of the man's head, he returned to the cubicle and leant against the wall. The handgun slumped against his side in his spare hand, leaving him to his phone call,

"Hello?"

"Goten, what happened?"

"Paris" sighing he flicked a switch in front on him to bring the target in,

"Oh, it was just Tur downing my aim"

The feathery voice on the opposite end of the call had sparked his interest when he saw her diving in the annual school swimming carnival. And although she was sweet, she seemed to call at the most inconvenient times.

"Why do you put up with him?"

"He's my uncle, he's harmless" he could almost see Paris raise her eyebrows in challenge, but she kept it to herself.

"If that's what you think. Anyway," Her voice was perky once more, excited and rapid, "I was thinking of going out to the club tonight. A group of us are meeting for the fight at 7, pick me up at 6.30. You still have that blue satin shirt…"

As she rattled out the night's events and latest gossip, Goten lost his concentration, giving a 'yeah', 'right' and 'are you sure?' at the correct intervals.

He studied the paper target, largely head shots but he had little time to study it as he was drawn away by Paris' question,

"Is that ok Goten? I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to. I know what your mother's…"

"Its cool, Par. 6:30, your place" taking up the hand gun he walked out of the cubicle and slumped into a chair next to his uncle, "Sounds like fun"

"You sound just like your father" Turles said in disgust, draining a small glass of whisky.

"I'll see ya, Paris" pocketing the phone, he turned to the man beside him,

"Really?" Goten's voice was cheerful, hopeful,

"Don't take it as a compliment" Turles tore the gun from Goten, who frowned watching as the man next to him turned his eyes over the weapon. The teen sat in silence, as his uncle and teacher studied Goten's pride and joy. He could hear his brother's voice, 'Never play with guns Goten', and as a child looking up to his big brother, he listened. But he didn't have a father like Gohan, and he cursed him every day for leaving…

It was then that one of Raditz's lackeys burst in through the door, breathing harsh, eyes wide and breaking Goten's chain of thought. He paused mumbling nonsense words in the doorway as if afraid to say what he needed to.

"For fuck's sakes, what is it?" Turles snapped at the man, slamming his nephew's black gun into the table before him,

"I think I better go," Goten turned to Turles, used to the man's temper, before he looked down at his watch and rose quickly, "Its 6 already, I'm gonna be in it if I'm late!"

The longer haired man shook his head, throwing back the weapon,

"Needs a clean"

Goten caught it easily, before slipping into the holster carefully hidden beneath his sports jacket,

"I'll do it after I win the tournament finals Monday, they're in West City remember? We're leaving tonight."

As part of the Orange Star high Martial arts team, Goten made it to the finals. But when Turles grunted in disgust he new it was at the mention of West City, the home of his enemies. Their enemies.

"Sir…" The man in the doorway intervened nervously,

Turles simply glared at the man, signaling him to wait before he turned back to Goten whom had thrown his back pack over his shoulder and was moving to the door.

"Don't forget what your uncle asked of you, boy" his voice was calm, yet the teen knew it was a warning.

"Lighten up, Turles" Goten plastered a grin on his face "Dealers are so predictable. He'll be at the club tonight and I'll have some fun getting the payment outta him. See ya in a few days."

He raised his eyes in replace of a wave and all but ran past the man hanging in the doorway. He was in such a hurry that he didn't hear the calls after him as he jogged out the front doors of the shooting range, switching off his phone as his uncle called. He couldn't afford to be distracted; Paris hated it when he worked for Raditz on their night out.

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Despite its quiet appearance, its typical back street danger, beneath their feet the beat of music softly vibrated up through the soil. Goten locked the car doors as the warehouse was secured and they were shut inside. He let his hand dwell on the spotless paintjob before he turned to the thug leaning against a convertible the man would only dream of owning. A cigarette hung loosely in the corner of his mouth; his oiled hair slicked back as if he were a character from a cheap 70's sitcom.

"Not a scratch."

Goten held himself slightly higher as he eyed the man warily, fearful of the safety of the precious machine behind him.

"Don't fret man. I'll take good care of 'er"

The young Son, walked up to the thug and slipped a large note into the older man's jacket pocket.

"Thanks…?"

"Byron, Sir"

"Byron…Wish me luck"

"Goo' luck"

Slipping his hand about Paris' waste, his hand resting on the top of her black leather pants, which revealed her curves sensually, the blue halter neck sparkling against her pale skin. The pair made their way towards the sounds of a gathered crowd. Through a large doorway, a makeshift boxing ring was set up in the center of the adjacent warehouse. Pumping dance music echoed through the large crowd, as the current fight rallied large bets and cheers. The smell of the sea from the docks was drowned out by that of sweat and blood. The sound of cheering and lusty calls for blood touched Goten ears, causing his grin to widen.

"You're late! Where have you been!"

The angry cry somehow made itself known through the crowd, Goten was suddenly spun away from Paris by a heavy hand pulling on his shoulder. Goten's face blank as he spoke matter of factly,

"I was getting my beauty sleep"

"Yeah right"

The voice calmed as both laughed, embracing in greeting. Goten looked at the teen before him, his own age and one of the most powerful in Satan cities gambling underground, eyebrows raising in query of the new fur coat. It wavered at his ankles, the dark color not too far from that of his skin. Beneath he wore shimmering red pants, tightly hugging the muscles of his legs and silver chains hung loosely around his waist. His torso was covered in several tattoos the most prominent being the symbol of the Son family, a red devil's pitchfork with a black cobra curling about it. The teen wore no shirt, his braided hair touching his bare chest.

"What's with the fur?"

"Like it?"

Goten simply rolled his eyes, turning back to the ring,

"What's the talent like tonight, Wolfe?"

"Amateurs, Easy money. Come on my friend, this is supposed to be your fight"

Paris pushed her handsup Goten's chest and down his arms softly to remove his jacket. He unbuttoned his own shirt passing it to the girl in front of him,

"Don't want to get any of that guys blood on your favorite shirt"

She held his cheek in her palm,

"Good boy, don't be long"

Leaning up she placed her lips gently against his, taking hold ofthe top before turning away smiling as she made her way towards a group around a table by the ring. Wolfe slapped his close friend on the back, handing him white bandage-like material to wrap around his hands.

"Okay lover-boy, its fight time"

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"What!"

Videl leapt from the chair, the cord attached to the receiver caused the phone to fall from the desk, slamming into the ground. Eyes locked onto her form as her features expressed surprise, anger, almost fear. Those around her soon began to move about their business, her partner looked up from the paperwork he was working on to watch her.

"What is it?" The blonde man asked her but she simply raised a hand to hold him. Her eyes widened slightly with each moment, her hand scribbling down an address as she listened in silence.

"We'll be right there, Sir" and at that she put down the receiver, the phone still on the floor. Videl silently checked her gun, slipping the issued jacket over her shoulders, its silver pin glinting in the fluorescent lights.

"Videl, What is it!" Sharpner was starting to get impatient; the worry on his partner's face was not usual. As if on cue he followed her lead, putting his badge into his jacket pocket, its weight somehow comforting. He began to jog after her as she left without a word, he grabbed his hat, pulling it on as he caught up.

He could easily keep pace, his legs so much longer then hers. Hidden beneath a hat identical to his, Videl's face remained tinged with worry. Sharpner looked down at her, waiting….

"There's been an assassination" her voice came cold, "It was Roshi"

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As camera lights flashed and the dull voices of news reporters filled in the background, Videl and her partner ducked under the police tape, flashing their badges identifying them as SCIU. Satan City Investigations Unit, better known as SCIU, was formed after the Cell incident. When the rule of the city was almost lost to a military scientist's experiment gone wrong, the city Mayor decided to put together a team to watch over any person or acts, which could compromise the Mayor's rule. Under the instruction to keep the city safe, the SCIU is thought to be the only Government organisation in Satan City, which has not been compromised by the Son's hand.

"Where is he!"

Videl's voice shot at the nearest officer, whose eye's tremored at the sudden sharp order. His mouth moved in question for a moment before he realised whom she was speaking of. He turned his head and nodded towards the small house, standing across the street. They moved around investigators at work on skid marks lining the tarmac, collecting empty gun shells, as they moved seemingly in slow motion towards the aging yellow house. An ambulance had stopped in front of the house blocking their view; a soft sobbing was audible over the busy voices of the law. As they passed the back of the ambulance they saw a young teen with her shoulder and most of her torso strapped in bandages as she spoke in mumbled sentences to a cop.

"What took ya so long? I've been 'ere for 20 minutes already"

A twenty something investigator dropped a brown paper bag into large plastic box beside him. He tugged in the white coat, which fell to his hips, an ID card hanging about his neck. Aging black rimmed glasses and scruffy brown hair pulled loosely back by a red band topped off the look, clearing identifying him as part of SCIU's scientific unit.

"The traffic was hel…"

Sharpner's answer was interrupted by Videl's stern voice. She stepped forward into the yard stopping next to a black sheet on the ground covering a frail body.

"This isn't a time for small talk", kneeling she gently touched the covered head. A warm tear formed in her eye and without looking up she continued, anger hinting,

"Sharpner, start talking to the neighbouring residents" she turned back to the white coat, "Tell me everything you've found"

The young scientist began listing everything he had found as Sharpner walked off, mumbling to himself,

"Sharpner, jump off a cliff while I call forth the rain" the blonde agent whispered mockingly and fixed up the collar on his jacket, walking out through the picket fence. It was then that something caught his eye, the glinting of silver.

Bending down he picked up a chain necklace hidden among the rose bushes; a gold ring attached to it. He twisted the yellow metal between his thumb and forefinger, studying the familiar pattern engraved on it. A delicate crown could be seen yet it was entangled in barbwire. Sharpner's eyes glinted in surprise at the sight of the Saiya-jin family symbol,

"Sharpner, find something?"

Videl's voice called out, pulling him from his reverie. He quickly shook his head, closing his fingers around the necklace.

"No nothing, dropped my notebook"

Hurrying away from Roshi's house, Sharpner ducked behind a tall oak in the neighbouring yard and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed the number, which was burned into his memory and spoke softly in order to avoid being overheard.

"Raditz, I've got something I think you want to hear…"

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NB: I'd like to thank Nyberger13 for letting me know about the format problem


	3. Sweet Ignorance

Title: When Doves Cry 2? – Sweet Ignorance

Authors Note: Well, it's been quite a while since I've posted anything here at and I must say truthfully that I have not concentrated on writing for myself in many a month. But the other day I was listening to the recording of a tarot reading I had done and somehow it brought me back, made me remember what made me happy. And so here is another chapter, I had fun writing it… I hope someone enjoys it as much as I did.

QUOTE: "What we call evil is simply ignorance bumping its head in the dark" - _in 'Observer', 16 Mar 1930_ – Henry Ford

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"Okay lover-boy, its fight time"

At this Wolfe slipped past his long time friend, his coat floating behind him. The dark man was indeed one to draw attention from the surrounding crowd. His charisma easily drew the eyes of both genders, and being who he was he didn't mind one bit. Each gender had their privileges and he knew how to twist situations to his own advantage.

Much evident in his relationship with Goten, the young grandchild of Satan City's Crime Lord. Whether or not the happy-go-lucky Son knew so or not, the catalyst of their close friendship was the fact that Goten was a Son. The Son and prised fighter was the best thing that had happened to the gambling entrepreneur and he wasn't just about to let that go.

"Gi' me the mike!" Wolfe leant against the ropes surrounding the ring, watching as two scrawny males attempted to pummel one another. His right hand was held back over his shoulder to a fellow announcer hanging about the ring.

"You gonna end the fight?" A high pitched male voice asked, boredom was all that could be heard in it. When Wolfe felt the cool plastic of the cheap microphone, he wrapped his fingers about it in a wave, replying to the younger announcer in one word,

"Hardly"

He left the confused boy standing in the edge of the gathering crowd, whose cheers rose radically at the sight of the coated man ducking through the ropes and interrupting the slow fight.

"Wow, My dear Dudes and Dudettes! Wasn't that a blood churning fight," Wolfe couldn't help but roll his eyes at his own false words. He knew that the two fighting men could put even Raditz to sleep. The fighters began to protest at the interruption, but Wolfe simply shot his free hand straight up into the air, spinning around to gage the entire audience,

"What d'you say we raise the stakes?" At this he caught Goten's eye, and motioned with his head for him to come into the ring. Goten, who now had white bandages protecting his fists, was bare chested, revealing the teen's rippling form. The result of many years with his entrepreneur companion, Goten had formed quite well. His heavy muscles having adapted to the rough illegal fights he was now about to participate in. It was not swiftness or agility you needed here, but brute force and a heavy punch.

"It's a three-way, Ladies and Gentlemen..." Wolfe revved up the crowd, "…Place your bets now, cause this one ain't gonna last long!"

Goten soon joined him in the ring, a trademark grin plastered onto his face. He cracked his neck and shook out his arms, his face may have been smiling yet his eyes shot death towards the interrupted fighters.

'_Simply a warm up'_, he thought

One of the men, in golden shorts, crossed his arms over his chest defiantly, his head covered in spiked primary red hair. Whilst the other, wearing red tracksuit pants, swallowed visibly and wiped at his face, unknowingly smearing crimson across his cheek.

A thick fur coat broke the Son's eye contact with the amateur fighters. The announcer waltzed across the ring, between the three males, and ducked once more through the ropes. Wolfe remained standing upon the outside of the raised platform as he turned to face the fighters.

"LET THE BATTLE BEGIN!"

Goten allowed the lusty cries to drift past his ears, ignored their shouts of bets and let his eyes wash over his opponents. Golden shorts wasted no time. He was across the ring in a single stride, a look of triumph across his face as he let his left fist fly.

'_Eager to lose is he?'_

The Son could have ended it right there with a simply uppercut into the exposed chest, but he had always found that the better the show, the bigger the pay. He hopped to the right, as Golden's fist passed his head, followed by red hair.

'_Bad move'_

Goten grabbed tuffs of the bright hair and thrust the fighter against the ropes at his opposite side. The man was stunned and unable to catch his feet against the flimsy barrier, he slipped to the floor. His face scraping against the ropes as it fell, his legs tangled in on each other. The blood from Golden's cut lips staining the wan floor.

"…OH! That's gonna bite in the mornin'…" Goten barely registered Wolfe's humoured proclamations, as he turned away from the fallen fighter to find the other blinking stupidly. The Son raised an eyebrow as the young fighter took a hesitant step towards him, his fists raised loosely before his chest. Goten threw the bald man a Cheshire style grin and slammed his right foot forward onto the floor. The bald fighter let out an audible squeak, Goten couldn't help but laugh. His hand came up to rub the back of his head, in a movement that, unknown to him, echoed that of his father.

"Its ok, I'm not going to hit you that hard…" Goten was about to continue along with his ridicule when he caught sight of Paris glaring at him from behind the ropes. He cleared his throat and stepped across the ring. His opponent held up shaking hands and tried to find a tough face.

Goten avoided the fighter's weak punches and threw a fist into the man's stomach. Baldy doubled over into Goten's chest. The son whispered,

"You don't belong in the ring"

Then he shoved him back into the ropes, the bald fighter toppled back out of the ring. Goten didn't watch long enough to see his fate but turned back to Golden shorts, who was now standing.

His remaining opponent wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. Goten stepped across the ring and squatted under a punch. He simultaneously grabbed the fighter, taking the man's left leg up with him as he stood and bent back down to throw an ending punch.

Paris was the one to pull him from atop the fighter. His hands were throbbing from the repeated contact with Golden's face. He dropped his head and caught his breath. Adrenalin stormed about his fists.

"Baby…come on, snap out of it…" Paris said

She came into focus before him, holding his bloodied wrists. She looked worried yet Goten knew how many times this had happened before. So many times. Paris should be used to it by now. Why was she worried?

Wolfe liked to call it his 'Super Form'. Goten called it blacking out, losing control.

"Get these off me!" Goten said angrily about the bandages around his hands.

Paris carefully unwound the red spotted cloth, throwing it to the floor. He couldn't hear her whispers above the joyful cheers of the crowd. So he plastered a grin on his face and pulled her up into a deep kiss. Whistles echoed through the crowd as Goten spun her around.

The fighter with the golden shorts was dragged from the ring coughing up blood. His figure disappeared into the rowdy crowd, left to fend for himself.

"Easy done!" Wolfe said, the commentator's arm engulfing Goten's shoulders. He lowered the mike from his face, "Ready for the next one?"

"Not tonight, Wolfe" Goten replied, "A dealer's been holding out…" He leant in to whisper the last, "...besides, I need to tend to my better half tonight"

"Mmmm, Let me know if you need any help" Wolfe said winking.

Goten laughed and Paris studied Wolfe questioning. Before she could ask what the two had exchanged Goten pulled away. He ducked through the ropes and felt hands pat his legs to congratulate him. Paris was through the ropes before Goten could offer a hand. She jumped down into the crowd with a giggle and disappeared.

The Son stared after her and sighed. He would never understand the female species. What was going through her mind? A minute ago she had been fretting over him and now she was giggling and leaving his side. He had tried to understand her, to discover her every unusual habit but in truth he was happiest studying her. He hoped he never discovered all her strange habits.

"G'ten! Get off the ring" Wolfe said. He felt a hand shove him from behind. He fell forward into the crowd and was shoved back from the front.

Groaning he elbowed the closest body, giving himself room to breathe. Pushing through the crowd, Goten heard Wolfe's voice speak over the pumping dance music. Still bare chested and with no Paris in sight he opted to find the dealer. If he dealt with the missing payment now he could spend the rest of the night with Paris. He had been unable to see her for longer then 15 minutes outside of school because of Turles' constant interruptions. He was due to graduate from the last year of High school in over a month and his Uncle was determined to make him ready for the family business.

Paris was becoming unsettled. She knew who his family was, everyone did, and she had asked him several days before to follow his brother's path. To move out from beneath Radtiz's wings and leave the life of crime he was embracing. Goten was sure that their relationship would end that night. It was the first time they had truly fought. He was glad she came to him the next day for he wasn't sure he could have done the same.

"P-please….I need it…I'll get you the money…" a nearby voice pulled Goten from his thoughts. He had walked to the far side of the hall. A table sat in a dark corner, a seedy man seated in the shadows.

"You're not getting any without the cash," the dealer said, "So don't try"

Goten walked over to the customer and pulled him gently from the chair. Supporting the man's weight, he spoke to him,

"You need help not drugs. Go to your fam…"

"What d'you know! Le' go!" The addict broke free and stumbled to the ground.

The Son took the man's seat as he staggered away. The dealer cleared his throat and pulled his coat tighter around his chest. He looked over Goten with a shaky gaze, which shifted to the empty space behind the teen as if expecting others to be standing there. Goten waited for the man to speak first and simply crossed his arms.

"Goten…umm…How may I help you?" The dealer said.

Goten smiled and said, "You can always help me…" It took him a moment to remember the man's name, "…Saime."

"Anything. X, Hype…?" The dealer said, hope in his voice.

"You know I'm not into that," Goten laughed, "I've heard some rumors, Saime. You've been selling more then we're giving you. Where'd you get it?"

The dealer's eyes widened, "I'd never…"

"You've been holding out on us, Saime. You're betraying Raditz, _My Uncle_" Goten said, emphasizing the latter two words. The dealer shook his head frantically, muttering denials.

A drop of sweat trailed down the dealer's forehead as Goten said, "Give me the extra you made and I might think of forgiving you. My sources say you made an extra ten thousand"

Goten raised an eyebrow at the dealer who said, "But it wasn't that…Here," He took a roll of bills from his coat, "I only have three and a half with…"

Goten slammed the table against the dealer with a fast hand. The money fell and rolled onto the ground. It hit the Son's foot and as he bent to pick it up he slid a knife from his boot. Saime was gasping to get air into his lungs, trapped into the corner by the table. Goten pocketed the cash and stood up over the dealer.

"I'm sorry, Saime. Raditz wouldn't like that answer" Goten grinned, genuine glee in his eyes, "Well, he hardly likes any answer so don't feel bad"

He pulled the table away and the dealer leant forward. Goten stood between him and the table, holding the knife up close to his throat.

"You've been dealing for the Ox King haven't you?" Goten said and put his left boot on the man's groin, "You know there's no Ox dealing in Son territory"

"But he's your Grand…" the dealer said. Goten pushed the knife closer into the skin and caused blood to flow. Goten's mood changed once more, anger. It was one thing to speak of the two families in Satan City, but mentioning any blood connection between the Sons and the Kings was not good for one's health. Ever since Goten could remember there had been hostilities between the Sons and Kings. A steady peace had formed when his father, Goku married his Mother, Chi Chi Yet it must be said that Goten had never had normal relationships with his parents. The thought of his father alone caused him to cringe.

"What did you say?" Goten said. A picture of his large Grandfather, his only living Grandfather, flashed through his mind. A loveable Chef, always wearing a comical, horned helmet, the Ox King was one of the deadliest figures in Satan City. It has never been proven, but a new specialty dish will appeared on the menu of his restaurant, always the day after a reported disappearance. Anyone with any clue never orders the daily special.

"Goten!" A voice yelled from behind him. Goten took the knife away from Saime's neck and looked around. Pushing his way out of the crowd was his older brother, Gohan. He walked straight over, leaving the crowd cheering the illegal fighting behind him. It was an understatement to say that Goten was surprised, he hadn't spoken to his brother in at least a year.

"You!" Goten turned his body and pointed the knife towards his brother, "What the fuck are you doin' 'ere?"

Gohan stopped, ignored the knife and said, "We have to go to Grandfather, everyone's there. Something has happened, haven't you heard?" Gotenn glared at his brother's face and saw red eyes and pale skin. He hesitated before lowering the knife. Turning back to Saime, Goten bent over and returned the knife to his boot.

"It seems you've lucked out, you get to stay intact for now" He told Saime, who was holding his neck, "But I'll be back in three days. You better have the money"

Goten left the dealer alone in the corner, after many had seen the confrontation he doubted any customers would dare approach the man tonight. He looked around for any show of Paris and his shirt. But he found no sign and so had to talk with his troubled brother. Goten could see emotion in his eyes and there was only one other time which Gohan had shown this. It was the sadness he had shown when their father died. And besides, Gohan never came to these fights, they're illegal. They'd tarnish his flawless record.

"What?" Goten swallowed and had to force himself to remain irritated, "Did your cat die?"

"I thought you'd know by now…" Gohan put a leading arm on Goten's back, "Come. Mother asked about you, she's worried about your grief. We must go to her"

The youngest Son could only look questionably at his brother and shrug his arm off, "My grief for what?" He asked but didn't wait for an answer, "Go away!"

At that he walked away into the crowd and found Paris sitting with the squeaky voiced announcer by the ring. He took his coat without word from the table and slipped his shirt over his head. He was still thinking about his brother when he heard Paris,

"Where've you been?" She said.

"Around," He forced a grin and sat down, "Around the world looking for a rose, but none could compare to you"

She couldn't help but roll her eyes and say, "Well, I'll have to go with…"

"Goten, I'm not kidding!" Gohan appeared behind him, he then whispered in Goten's ear, "Its Roshi. You know I'd never come here if it wasn't important. Please."

Goten knew something was wrong and at the mention of Roshi's name he began to play the worst scenarios through his mind. All other distractions left his mind. Defense mechanisms come in all shapes and sizes, Goten's sarcasm and his humor protected him from grief. It kicked in automatically as he suspected the worst,

"Just trying to scare me straight, aren't you? Very funny, Gohan" Goten twisted his head to see his elder brother, "Sit. Place a bet" Goten's eyes were not humorous though, they were anxious. Paris and the announcer shifted their gaze inquisitively between the brothers and the announcer shrugged when Paris asked him what he thought was going on.

The angered voice of his girlfriend caused Goten to forget his brother momentarily and look in the direction her hand pointed. Two men obviously with more muscle then brains shoved their way through the chanting crowd, both he instantly recognized as a couple of Raditz's thugs.

"You promised no Uncle tonight, Goten!" Paris whined.

The thugs caught Goten's eye, one silently calling the Son over with a look of importance, which caused him to remember the drug dealer's money in his pocket.

'He wants an update does he', Goten muttered to himself, 'Wish he'd back off'

Once Goten was standing he caught hold of his older brother's shoulders, shoving him down in the seat he vacated,

"I wager Jewel," Goten waved up at a platinum blonde fighter who blew kisses at the crowd, "He seems a sissy but Wolfe had a thing with him" Goten winked at his blinking brother and strode to the waiting thugs who stood just out of hearing distance of the group he keep his back to.

"There's no way I'm gonna deal with Saime tonight, guys," Goten said before he stopped and dug the paper roll from his pocket, "Look…the guys hiding in a corner, get the ten thou from him. One way or the other"

"Mr. Raditz needs to see you immediately. We've come to escort you." The taller thug ordered Goten, ignoring his words about Saime. The Son's fears for Roshi emerged once more, the money twisted around his fingers as he fumbled. When he received a shrug for asking the reason for being called, he looked back to Gohan who was watching the three of them talk, ignoring the ongoing battle he had told him to bet on.

Pushing the rolled notes into the smallest thug's hands, Goten told them to treat themselves after they'd gotten ten thousand from Saime.

"But Raditz…" The man started.

Goten waved him off, "Don't worry 'bout him. You'd better start worrying when you don't get that money"

He threw one last glance back to Gohan, ignoring Paris' death-like glare, he swore she acted more and more like his own mother everyday. Gohan was rising but before he could make a move for his brother Goten had faded into the crowd. Leaving the thugs fretting behind him, seconds later he, with heavy breath found the crowd's edge and ran for the adjoining warehouse and his precious convertible.

"Heard ya fight," the slick haired valet called from across the hall, "Congrats Sir!"

"Just open the door would you" Goten's voice was hurried as his engine purred into life, and he looked back to find Gohan running towards him calling. Weaving his way gently through the temporary garage, his tires squealed through the doorway just as the rusting door was thrown up.

* * *

Clouds covered his thoughts as he weaved through the brick lined suburb, the sound of his heart shook his entire body but he couldn't steady it. The moment he turned into Roshi's street his foot was on the brake, the tires screamed in protest as the car skidded to a stop. He watched as a crowd buzzed about Roshi's home, news vans had started to pull up trying to make the best of the crowd and commotion. Goten took his keys, causing his headlights to die out, the yellow streetlights taking over once more.

"_Can you tell us some details…What's going on…how did it happen?"_ The insistent voices of the press tore at him as he pushed unforgiving through their ranks, and he was glad none of them recognized him…yet.

It was the yellow police tape that stopped his advance. He stared at it, a symbol of finality and without thinking he grabbed it, pulling it up to step beneath. Firm hands suddenly shoved him backwards into the crowd once more, the voice of the policeman dull to his ears and so he started forward, facing the tall man,

"Let me through!"

"I'm sorry, this is a crime scene. Are you relation, son?"

"I'm a Son. Move aside!"

"You're his son? Videl needs to speak with you…"

"Roshi's my Master. Where is he!"

But the policeman wouldn't answer his question and held him back with the crowd, simply saying that the area's a crime scene and none may cross. Without thinking Goten let fly his fist, adrenaline left over from the fight still bubbling through his veins, the officer's nose cracked clearly and blood almost instantly tainting his skin. The man cried out profanities and stumbled back into the side of a patrol car. Moments later he was joined by a fellow officer who went for Goten, aiming to take hold of the teen's arms and cuff his wrists. Goten simply growled, demanding to be told the truth and stepped back to avoid the officer's grip.

"Goten?" Sharpener appeared as if out of thin air, Goten's own mind too clouded with worry to notice the man's concern, "Let him through"

Goten turned his full attention to the blonde SCIU agent, who was secretly on Raditz' payroll, after giving the officer's one last glare. The man started leading the Son towards Roshi's front yard, stopping just out of view behind an ambulance.

"There's been an accident," Sharpener said his voice all caution, making Goten impatient, "A gift for Raditz"

Goten frowned as the detective grabbed his hand sharply, Sharpner's gloved hand tight around the fighter's bare palm. Muttering random words of comfort, Sharpner engulfed him with his free hand so as to disguise the exchange of metal. But Goten couldn't help wondering if the comfort was more then show and instinctively shoved the man away, fearful of cameras targeting him. Cool metal graced his palm, Goten only glancing at the necklace as he slipped it into his coat.

"Where's Roshi?" Goten asked one last time, determinedly marching to circle the ambulance, but before he could glance the front yard of Roshi's generic wooden cottage a black van pulled up to block his path. He was about to shift back to detour the new arrival when his eyes caught sight of the bold lettering adorning its side. _Coroner_.

* * *

The fuss brought Videl's attention from the deep bullet holes in Roshi's front door to look at the formed crowd on the street. Like a professional, her hands did not shake, her words did not falter and her mind was clear cut, pushing all her grief for the death of her husband's mentor to the side. This is as it had been on every case she had investigated, she couldn't let herself become distracted by her own emotions, and inevitably they would cloud her judgment. Maybe even accuse an innocent.

It was her ability to disentangle her own self from her cases, no matter how personal, that made her the most sort-after officer in Satan City. She perfected this ever night. A cold case she had opened several months before, so personal it hurt her heart each time her eyes touched the crime scene photos. Her husband, Gohan, had begged her not to torture herself, not to open the file, when she first brought it back to their small apartment. She ignored him each time and simply locked the study door, blocking out his worried eyes and her 12 year old daughter's curiosity. He had stopped mentioning it, in fact he avoided the subject altogether, acted as if it didn't exist and each night for hours she would pour over crumpled reports, stained photos searching for something. Anything. But nothing could solve that case. And so she'd sit and look at the photo of her mother's face, disentangled her personal feelings and search.

But now she saw him. Her husband's brother. A soul whose heart she knew balanced on a knife's edge, his skin thin and protected only by those around him. Videl came to realise that Goten relied on Roshi and told his deep secrets to him. The old man was too aged to physically train the boy, but he had shaped her nephew's mind, listened and never judged him. Perhaps that why Gohan hadn't received a reply from his brother in over a year, no matter how hard her husband tried he always succeeded in pushing the boy away. Forever judging his actions. Her heart sank as she understood who Goten would learn on now and it wasn't Gohan.

When Goten and her partner disappeared behind the ambulance holding the wounded girl, Videl moved. She muttered of her brief departure to the male scientist beside her and hurried across the lawn, intent on catching the pair before they came into view of the Roshi, or at least until the coroners could remove the body. She circled the ambulance in time to see Sharpner being shoved back from an embrace.

"Where's Roshi?" Goten asked.

Videl caught his shoulders as he marched towards the house and he simply glared at her unseeing, as if he didn't recognize her. The grave look in his eyes, the fire that sparked in their center stunned her and she couldn't speak.

"Well!" Goten forced, his arms now limp at his sides, all his energy was focused in his face. Videl blinked and finally spoke to her nephew.

"Goten, dear. I was hoping that Gohan would have…" He jerked his shoulders free and took a step back, his eyes finally showing signs of recognition.

"_Sister_. Where is he?" She couldn't help but notice the poison in his voice.

"SCIU are tending to him, now. We'll take good care of him, Goten." Her voice was matter-of-fact before it softened, "Why don't you go to your mother? She's waiting for you"

"So I heard" He whispered, and tried to move past her but she stopped him in a firm grip.

"You cannot go past. This is a crime scene, Goten. Do you need someone to drive you home?" Videl asked, watching him carefully.

"Home…" Goten repeated, no longer looking at her. He turned and at speed walked to the crowd before anyone could stop him. After a moment she lost site of him, not even the sound of his screeching tires reached her ears.

"Boss, get back here and take a look at this!" The young scientist called to her seemingly without respect, she knew otherwise. She shook her head, pulling her attention back to her job and reordering her mind she returned to the bullet holes without the look of sadness which held her heart.


	4. Dogs of War

Title: When Doves Cry 3/? – Dogs of War

**Quote:** "Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge…/ Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice/ Cry 'havoc!' and let slip the dogs of war…" – 'Julius Caesar', III:I, William Shakespeare

**Summary of Last chapter**: Goten wins the three-way underground fight, having lost control over himself and then uses threats to get money from a withholding drug dealer. Gohan shows up at the fight telling him something's wrong with Roshi, but Goten doesn't listen, speeds off to the crime scene that is Roshi's house.  
At Roshi's house, Sharpner a turncoat cop, gives Goten the Saiya-jin ring left when Roshi was killed. Goten leaves for Raditz' mansion.

* * *

Outside the car the receptiveness of the western suburbs, its bubbly trees and lace filled windows slowly gave way to battered apartments as the smell of industry drew nearer. The industrial buildings in Satan City were creeping slowly away from their original position on the southern coast. Sitting midway along the coast, warehouses had started spreading outwards, only perturbed in the east by the beaches, and lovingly called the holiday coast. Raditz, on the death of his father Bardock, had taken over the sprouting family business, with its headquarters in a small factory in the western reaches of the industrial zone. The small shipping company grew so fast that any logical mind would know it was illegal and Goten wasn't an exception. He didn't see anything wrong with a few enticements so the authorities turn a blind eye. It also meant he needn't worry a great deal about the random patrol, or pen happy ticketer. Not that in his current state of mind, or lack there of he was thinking about avoiding a speeding ticket as he zipped across a main road leaving startled drivers. His mind he could not make sense of, it felt as if a lead weight was slowly pressing in on his chest. He was surprised he could breathe and when he realized he wasn't he took a lungful of cold air, ignoring the dull pain to his throat. It was strange, it seemed to him a hole had suddenly formed in his heart, something was missing and he couldn't think. While the car drove subconsciously he sat in a daze. After the fact he found it surprising he made it to Raditz' place in one piece.

He turned off onto a driveway several hundred meters from the skirts of industry. The driveway was short yet snaked around to allow through a number of cars, the aging gates and walls held in a storied residence becoming out of place in such a torn area. Yet with its brick exterior and obvious security system, the Son mansion slipped in among the apartment buildings and warehouses randomly surrounding it. It was the one thing that had remained the same, excluding the new cameras, in the area throughout Goten's life. He grew up watching the neighbour's almost identical home cut down to build up again as an apartment block.

Goten punched in the security code by the gateway, ignoring the shadow of a lackey walking past the gate's interior. The car drove over onto pebbles after the gateway opened inward. Two cars and a motorcycle already graced the circling driveway nowhere near the garage. But he didn't think about who their owners were and took a side path to stop in front of one of the several singular roller doors. His first intention when stepping out of his car was to raise the door so to drive in his convertible, and yet when his eyes passed a certain tree growing in the center of the front garden he left the machine behind him, snatching its keys from the ignition. A cool breeze brushed back his open shirt, the sound of the oaks leaves rustling against each other didn't distract his eyes from the aging tire which swung softly in the breeze…

……"_Concentrate, Child. Maintain you're balance", Roshi's voice said from beneath him, the old man sat in the tire as Goten's feet rested above either side of the thick rope._

_The young boy's feet suddenly shifted, his right slipped from its hold and he had to grab the rope to keep his balance. The tire started to swing and shake back and forth,_

"_Still yourself…Find CALM!" Roshi's voice almost squealed as Goten lifted the tire up and forward with his legs, causing it to swing sharply reaching higher each pass. Goten's giggles heard high above Roshi's halfhearted protests_.

"_Goten control yourself…Goten, Goten…GOTEN"_...

He jumped in surprise as a heavy hand shook his shoulder and the sound of his name moved into real life, away from memories.

"Goten," It was Turles.

"I'm hungry", Goten didn't expect those words but it was the first thought which came to him. He dug his hand into his jacket pocket, looking for a bottle, a cigarette, anything but found only the necklace and ring. Without taking his eyes off the tire he twisted the ring in his hands.

"What's that?" Turles' voice was its usual firm self, hadn't he heard, he seemed so cool. Goten looked about and up at his Uncle's face, which held the most concern he had ever shown. His eyebrows arched, mouth down turned. It brought him back to himself.

"Huh?"

"Your hand" Was that concern Goten heard in his Uncle's voice? He glanced down at his fidgeting hand, his right hand. In the light from the garage lamp his pale skin was discolored. Blood. It covered his knuckles, was drying on his skin and turning slowly black.

"Blood"

"God, I can see that" Turles let frustration get the better of him, unable to maintain his calm air and took Goten's wrist to revealed the chain in his palm. In his mind Goten knew it would be easier if he smiled, joked, said everything was fine. Would be simpler, would get Turles off his back. But he couldn't move his lips and while the thought of his uncle walking off agreed with him, would mean an end to his probing queries, he still didn't want to be alone.

Turles was silent.

Goten didn't know how long he had been standing there but the moon had appeared above the oak's branches, a crow shivered its silhouette against the moon and flew off. An omen.

"I won tonight, you know," he looked up at his Uncle, "I should tell…" He was about to say 'Roshi', tried to compensate with 'Raditz' but stuttered and let it drop.

Turles ignored the mistake, "Where'd you get this?" he dangled the chain before him, letting the nearby lamp reveal its insignia.

"Sharpner", Goten didn't care to look further, its purpose wasn't even a thought, for his mind had wandered back to the blood on his knuckles. It couldn't have been from the golden shorted fighter, nor baldy as the bandages prevented that.

"Said it was a gift. Brown-nose…at a crime scene..." He mumbled, distracted. With the automatic reply, the blood on his hand made sense. The policeman.

"It's from the cop, punched his nose. Should apologise, Roshi'll be _very_ angry", wiping his hand jaggedly across his sleeve. This only achieved a smear to his wrist, the liquid refusing to soak into the leather. He huffed, his hands once more searching his pockets. The movement must have caught Turles' attention, for he held a box out and flicked the lid open.

"Chi will slaughter me", Turles said, "So not a word"

Goten took a cigarette for his mouth, another for his ear and let Turles ignite.

"He made me quit", Goten commented, his voice catching.

"Who?" But Goten couldn't reply, just let out a shaky cloud of smoke. As he watched it disappear his master's voice berated his memories…

…… "_Put that thing out" Roshi had snatched the burning cigarette from his student's mouth, as he raised an eyebrow and smirked, "Don't see that cute girl of yours poisoning herself like that_"……

He eyed the stick burning between his fingers, it reminded him of the cheap billboards plastered all over south-side. You couldn't walk a block without being fronted by a half naked girl flaunting her nicotine, among other things, or else have your stomach turned by the sight of a sliced open brain, a red clot trickling out. One could be persuaded to pick up smoking thrice and quit twice in a six block radius.

There was something calming about it. Simply watching the cigarette burn. He flicked away the ash and took another drag.

"What," Goten asked, "happens now?"

Even to his own ears, Goten's voice was strangely still as if he were speaking of the next stage in a road trip. Yet it was a decent question. He didn't know what to do and inside it scared him.

"Inside," Turles said and he pocketed the ring, "Rad's had guys out for you hours, you know. Why wasn't your phone on?"

"I was ignoring you. Trying to get back in the good books" Goten said and to his surprise Turles snickered. But not his usual thrilled sound, it was dry and mocking. Its sound made Goten ask himself if he had slipped-up, was there a chance he could have reached Roshi. Why did he have to leave his phone off? It was always drummed into him, always remain in contact. He turned back to his car and leant over to the center consul to get his phone. His fingers fumbled with the buttons as he moved to turn it on.

"Don't worry 'bout it now, Boy" Turles lay a comforting arm about his shoulders, "Bit late"

The phone began its shrill beeps alerting him of missed calls, 14 in all.

"He was shootin' knifes," His Uncle let his arm drop and started back to the house, "Thought they'd reached you too"

It took a moment for it dawn on Goten that they, his own family had taken into consideration the possibility he was dead, or at least had been snatched, held as insurance. The dangers of his family had never hit him so near and while he had been the direct hand in several such death efforts he never really thought he was a target. How foolish he had been.

Following lead, Goten walked back towards the house. As he passed the car he leant in, grabbing up his bag, its weight assuring him that the pistol and holster he had removed for the fight earlier were still in their place. The car chirped at the press of a button, a mundane exercise which required no thought on his part.

Turles blocked his way through the front door and at Goten's furrowed brow said, "The Don quit too," Turles' pet name for his elder brother, Raditz, "Remember"

'The Don' stood out as authority, and while Raditz had frowned at its use he hadn't ordered it to stop. Mind, even if he had ordered the name to disappear, it was unlikely that Turles would have listened. In his thoughts, Goten found the name impressive and wished he had such a handle, instead often found himself simply known as "Boy".

"Oh yeah" he stubbed out the stick beneath his foot and scuffed pebbles over it. But his Uncle was still standing there, his head nodded to the other in his ear. Goten huffed, hoping simply putting it in his jacket pocket would suffice. But as his hand paused just in the pocket opening…

… "_Put that thing out now" …_

"It's gonna…" Goten said, "I mean, he's alright…"

"Boy…" Turles said but when Goten shot his eyes up, he saw the older stop as if hesitating from moving closer. Goten forced a smile, everything turned out fine when he smiled, everyone smiled back. But not this time. Turles' mouth sat straight, his eyes furrowed in question, perhaps worry.

"Boy," Turles said, "It's not alright. Master…"

But Goten waved off the words he knew were coming, somehow hoping that if it wasn't said aloud it would remain a dream.

"Can't let the old guy see I stumbled, eh Tur?"

He threw the cigarette into the bushes by the front door. It caught in the leaves and sat, stuck a meter from the ground, an eyesore in the greenery. He kicked out with his right leg, which brushed against the bush. The white stick shuddered and tumbled down into the dirt, soon to rot and fade with the inevitable garden hose.

With a shrug Goten pushed his bag further into his shoulder and pushed up the stairs past his uncle. The entrance hall was ill lit, a single table lamp flickered across the room, were it sat on a three-legged wooden stool. His hand went automatically to the switches inside the doorframe, but after several flicks back and forth he was well and truly sure that it wasn't going to light. He quickly saw why on looking up. Where once a crystal shade covered the round bulb now a wire hung unmoving, connected to broken glass and sudden sparks.

Goten felt Turles' hand push down on his fingers to turn off the switch and halt the sparks. He then stepped past his dumbfounded nephew and began across the room like a stork, his long legs carefully making their way.

Goten took a cautious step forward and the lamp light revealed shattered crystal, glass broken and cutting into the Persian rug. Not that it gave the rug any grief for it was so worn in places that the polished wood beneath was vaguely visible. It didn't take long for him to figure out what had happened and it shook him back into reality, gave him reason to believe Roshi was in fact dead.

Raditz Son was the perpetrator. His temper was famous, only equaled by the tone of his grief. The scene Goten faced grew worse as he made his way down the left hall to the library, or rather picked his way through. The man had definitely been in a bad mood, for several frames graced the floor, having been knocked from their hook in the wall where now a fist sized dent or crack decorated the space instead.

"…fast to deny. Beside, how do they gain? He wasn't in the business anymore, they know that better than anyone" A male yet somewhat effeminate voice. It could be heard much clearer as Goten drew near to the open library door. It was soft and its male tone oddly formal for the home of a shipping merchant and crime father. But that could be excepted from the spoilt offspring turned up-and-coming lawyer also known as Lucius Dende.

"What," a reply, harsh and aged yet no less learned "do they gain? For stone, do you realize what he had brought? Peace. Co-operative families once at each other's neck were rid of…"

"Silence!" The order was so deep that it seemed to rattle Goten's bones as he stepped into the doorway. He dropped his bag to the floor by the door without thought to its contents. Raditz had his back to him, hunched over the burning fireplace. He looked unnaturally weak for his size. A scotch bottle, half empty was clutched in his hand and pressed against the mantel.

The library, or so it had always been labeled consisted of merely two wooden bookshelves lined with novels and a set of encyclopedias, which must have been at least twenty years old, for as long as Goten could remember not one had been taken from the shelf.

Sitting in one of the two armchairs gracing the room, a cane in his hand was the owner of the second voice. He looked to be four times Goten's own age, with the deep folds in his face and back bent over permanently with Osteoporosis. Piccolo "Raspberry" Handford was his name, such a handle was not representative of the sweetness of fruit but for a particular incident in which his victim ended looking a tad like a red, lumpy berry. With each year he grew more frail, but this was only physical, his mind was as sharp as ever, much to Goten's frustration. The man always caught him out when he was bluffing his way by Raditz who wouldn't begin any business without the large man. In Raspberry's more agile days he was Raditz's messenger boy, his negotiator. Do not take this as a mediocre role, as Turles himself would have been given the task if it weren't for his impulse problem. Raditz' could control his temper when the occasion called for it but he didn't trust his brother, especially with such delicate messages.

There had been recent comments overheard by Goten that he was being influenced by his Uncle too much in this way, his blackouts representing the rumor's beginnings. While usually the rumors bothered him, at this moment he couldn't think of anything. He simply moved past Dende, who stood with papers in his arms and leant on the back of Piccolo's chair waiting for his uncle.

"Don," Turles said next to Raditz, "Goten's here. He brought it"

Raditz looked up from the flames to Turles and the chain dangling from his hand. He eyed the ring without word for a long minute, the hand still clutching the bottle remained pressed against the mantel.

"Come here, boy" Raditz said.

Goten stepped forward his head bowed and took his Uncle's extended hand to kiss the ring on his center finger. The hand quickly grabbed Goten's chin and pulled him up not too gently. Dark eyes stared down into his own. What scared him the most was the fact that Raditz had a smile on his face. Not the usual smirk, nor the sneer he gave to those about him but a genuine smile. He never showed such affection, it was gentle. Goten almost pulled away.

And that was it. Raditz removed his hand, turned away and poured two glasses from the bottle in his hand. Goten took the glass, his hands he noticed were shaking but a decent mouthful steadied him.

"Tell me, boy" Raditz said, "Who killed Roshi? The Master was no saint. Bled as many people as you and me both"

Raditz didn't comment on his being late, or why he couldn't be found. Didn't ask how he was feeling or if he understood what had happened. It was straight to business, it was always business when it concerned the 'deceased'. And yet this time was different, Raditz had made it personal. Only a close few could notice the subtle changes, the gentle smile to his nephew, the weakness in his back, which disappeared at the utterance of his question

"Cops"

Goten spoke of the first suspect that came to his mind. SCIU had been blowing down their necks for months, trying to find a reason to arrest the top guns. Word was that the new mayor, Hercules, was threatening jobs if the traitors weren't taken from the force, the government. Taking out their payment source was quite a popular suggestion among the young SCIU agents as Goten had become aware of lately. While the regular police showed their respect, took their payment without question, the SCIU were not so disloyal. Only the most centered were chosen and among the 300 strong institution only one so far had been turned by any family, Sharpner.

"Cops?" Raditz said.

No one said anything. Piccolo watched Raditz, Dende was flipping through his papers, while his uncle took his drink and Turles started taking charge of the phone calls.

"Brainless twits," a laugh from his large uncle shocked Goten, "That sister-in-law of yours is quite the looker though; she'd work quite well under Turles'... tuition"

A soft, throaty chuckle built up from Piccolo's chest, his tongue wetting his lips. But all Goten could do was shiver at the thought of Videl in red, lace lingerie.

"Try again, boy"

"I don't… who would…" Goten battled for to find the killer's name, "No one hates… hated the old man"

"This is hopeless," Piccolo said, "He's going into shock. Can't go through with it if he's a babbling idiot"

"Drink your scotch, boy" Raditz said, waving at Dende who led Goten to a wooden chair he pulled near to the fire, "Pull yourself together, you've got a retaliation ahead of you"

Goten looked up at Raditz in question, "Retaliation?"

"If you weren't so rapt in your own loss, you'd realize that honor is at stake" Raditz in threw his glass into the fire, an explosion sending shards across the room, "Wake up, Goten Son!"

The anger directed towards him was a change he should have expected, but as he was still shaking over the reality of the death of his mentor… He knew he should haven't expected any sympathy from his uncle.

"Saiya-jin…" the scold from Raditz made him realise

"Bravo, bravo!" Raditz clapped his hands together and leant forward eyes serious, "Its time, boy. Time to complete that mark"

Raditz put a hand on Goten's chest, over the hidden tattoo gracing the stop above his left nipple. A trident. Half of the symbol of the Son family, the mark showing that he had killed for them.

"The snake?" Goten said. The cobra, which wrapped around the spiked spear was the last part. It told all that the wearer had sacrificed alone for the family. Had killed alone.

'…hold tight. Close for the night…', only Turles' voice speaking over the phone line could be heard for several long minutes. The fire was attractive to Goku's son, it echoed his thoughts. Fierce and anxious.

"Listen carefully," Raditz waited until he had his nephew's attention, "The Saiya-jin King's son is a friend of yours is he not?"

Jaggedly Goten nodded.

"Good," standing he moved to the bookshelf, "Tonight you will leave for West City. You will compete in the tournament and when you've won you will skewer his heart"

"But…" the alarm took Goten's voice.

"They don't expect you to show, never mind make a move in their own territory" the big, man slumped back into the arm chair, a box now in his arms "Brother, bring the whiskey"

Turles hung up immediately and did what he was told. From the wooden box Raditz took a gold chain, and seeing a ring attached to it reminded him of the same which was left with Roshi.

"How do I – ", Goten was interrupted by Piccolo.

"Krillin's man will find you there. The circs have been wronged also by the mentor's death", he was matter of fact, unemotional as the teen came out of his shock, "Stay in contact at all times, and let it be perceived that you haven't left your teammate's sides. The circ. will outline the deed, we haven't the time to go over the basic needs you should already know"

"Let us drink", Raditz stood and Turles handed him a large glass of whiskey. Into it he dropped the chain and ring, a distorted clanging. All followed his lead. Dende, Piccolo and Turles appeared by their sides, ringing the fireplace.

"For honor will be announced," On the Raditz' toast Goten rose, standing next to him, "Like blood we will engulf the fire which has taken our heart. Our child will become the harbinger of revenge"

The same words which Goten's grandfather, Bardock had spoken so many years before Goten was born. Raditz drank from the glass, handed it to his brother then everyone in the room drank silently leaving the last for Goten. When he got the glass he looked at the ring, which had carved into its side the mark of the Son family. Without word he downed the remainder of the liquid, coughing at its strength.

"The funeral will wait until you return" Raditz said as Goten slipped the chain around his neck.

From a black box on the table between the two armchairs he took a slim cigar, a sign of dismissal. He never lit a cigar when thinking business.

Saying nothing, Goten grabbed his bag and started out.

As he was leaving Turles did his best to catch his eye, the teen lowered his head and slinked past. The chain felt heavy around his neck, the bag in his hand barely in his grip, as if his muscles were giving up. He started towards the back of the house and the spiral stairs leading to the second floor.

"Goten," the voice a lackey behind him, "At the gate, there's…"

"Shut up!" Goten interrupted, his voice wavering. He didn't hear what the man was trying to tell him, simply went upstairs to close himself in his room.

In the dark the only light radiated from his alarm clock, for its digital numbers glowed green. He saw in its light the only photo in the room. In a frame three faces smiled up at him. Goten saw himself, a child dwarfed by Roshi who he now towered over, sitting on the old man's lap. The five year old boy clung to another lounging next to them, his arms wrapped around Turles' own.

Goten dropped his bag on the bed to take up the frame and sit. With his hands resting heavy on his knees a tear fell onto the photo and it made way for more. Now that he was alone he couldn't hold back what he had been feeling ever since the coroner's truck pulled up in front of him. It was knowing that he would never again see his mentor's face, never again notice his leer at Paris whenever she arrived, or hear his aging chuckle.

The frame in his lap felt like fire burning into his legs, his hands he soon realised were shaking to cause friction against him. But he couldn't care if his whole body was shaking, for it was his mind that was lost of comprehension. Nothing was making sense. A scream was stuck in his throat behind what felt like lumps in his mouth, an unseen swelling. Or was it suppressed tears?

All thoughts of the violence which had to be done to his long time rival were forgotten as he stared into Roshi's eyes in the photo. They were so happy, that hint of lustful suggestion to the photographer. Goten wondered what his eyes looked like when he died. Were they as happy or were they scared? He had never seen the old man scared, of course angered but not fear. He shook his head, Roshi was scared and he wasn't there to protect him.

He couldn't have been scared, he was never…

A tear marred Roshi's face and he barely heard the frame crack in his clenched hands.

A sudden knock at the door startled him. He wiped his eyes and set aside the photo as he called out his query.

"There's someone here-" but the male reply was interrupted by another youthful and sweet.

"Goten?" it was hesitant, "Please…"

Goten groaned at the sound of his niece's voice, Pan's. Usually over enthusiastic, a typical childhood trouble maker, Gohan's only daughter constantly got on Raditz' nerves but was a source of comfort to Goten. The 10 yr old (1) allowed him to act as a child, immature and irresponsible if only for a short time in such a severe society.

His door opened when he didn't reply.

"Uncle…?" In a rush of colours Pan was across the room, her arms around Goten's chest. Her little body was shaking with her sobs, as if her uncle's touch was a catalyst for her tears. Silently he brought her onto his lap, holding her against him.

"She arrived at the gates alone and refused to leave without seeing you," the lackey at the door said, "Piccolo wants us to take her home."

Goten frowned, "You take her, I need time alone"

At this Pan pushed back, looked up at Goten, "No. I don't wanna go. I hate him…I hate him!"

"Hate who?" Goten waved off the man who closed the door as he left, "Where's your mother?"

"At home," She leant back into him watching the alarm clock, "He wouldn't let me see him. Father hated Grampa R-rosh… said he was bad, was – was like you"

Goten stiffened. He knew he and his brother didn't get along, that Gohan disapproved of his lifestyle, of Raditz' illegal movements. But to bring in his daughter, an innocent child. Did Gohan think he would do anything to hurt her?

"Listen," He waited until she looked up, tilting her head against his chest, "The old man, Roshi, he was a good man. He was my…" Goten choked, "…like a father"

"Now, lets get you home," Goten said after a minute of silent sobs, whose owner he couldn't say were his or Pans, "Videl must be worried sick, does she know you're here?"

Pan shook her head and stood on her own when Goten stood up.

"I don't want to go back, can't I stay here?" Pan's voice begged, almost a whine, "I won't be any trouble"

"You can't", Goten threw his bag to Pan and grabbed another with his school's emblem printed on the side from his wardrobe, "I have a competition in West city, the bus leaves soon. Wish me luck, kiddo"

"West city?" Pan held the bag in front of her and struggled to wipe her tears, "You're leaving me? Not now, I need to stay with you. I hate Gohan!"

Goten checked the ring was on the chain around his neck before changing into his school sport's jacket,

"Diddo!" But he couldn't smile, Roshi's voice was still haunting him.

Pan tried to change Goten's mind as they sat in the back of the black car, tried to stay at the mansion but he had tuned out. The same lackey drove at a fast pace, ignoring signs and warnings. Behind them another car followed, a protection in an uncertain time.

Raditz was beginning lock down procedures. There was only one previous time that a lockdown had occurred in Goten's memory, a sudden break in the truce between Ox-king and Sons ten years before, on the death of his father, Goku. He growled aloud at the memory, and asked himself why Raditz, the security freak, was letting him go to West City alone so soon.

"Uncle?" Pan latched onto his arm, "I'm scared"

That brought Goten from his thoughts, "My Pan…Scared?"

"No one cares about Roshi, you don't care" she pushed away from him. Goten saw the driver glance back at them.

"Don't say that" Goten ground out, anger having been building since she arrived and interrupted his thoughts.

"But you're leaving, Piccolo is just standing at the gates. Why isn't anyone going after the murderer?" Pan started babbling, her voice rambling.

"Why do you think I'm leaving?", Goten turned his glare out the window to subside his mood. He could never stay mad at her.

He ignored the warning look the lackey gave him and pulled a grin onto his face.

"Strawberries"

"Strawberries?" Pan questioned

"Yep, just for you" He knocked her comically with his elbow, pretending to be shy he hid his neck behind his shoulders.

The giggle that sprang into the little girls face couldn't be heard, just the visible words on her face that told Goten he was 'an idiot'. And for the moment that she assaulted his arm with her small fists, that he feigned shock and flung his arms around her neck, pulling her down, he was safe. There was no fear, and the retaliation he was to soon perform didn't exist.

* * *

Downstairs Turles was reminding Raditz that he had quit smoking, but to the younger brother's annoyance Raditz simply offered him one. The library was quiet, empty of all but the two brothers. Dende had left to take care of the authorities questions, Piccolo had been called away to a disturbance at the front gate. When the phone, positioned furthest from the window rang, Turles answered it as he had done so several times that night, usually only men in their charge asking for orders. He was ready to tell the voice to stay put and wait, but it was the front gate which called, Raspberry's voice;

_A Circ. Mercenary has arrived. It's Seventeen_ Turles relayed the message across the room.

"Bring him in" Raditz ordered.

It was a minute later that, flanked by two of Raspberry's guards, came a tall, dark headed man who didn't seem too impressed with his entourage which hadn't moved from within a meter of his body since his arrival. The black leather he wore with his signature orange bandana about his neck made it so the two hour motorcycle ride was relatively painless.

"Was all that necessary?" He bit, "Krillin sent me here as a friend"

Raditz stubbed out his cigar, leaving it sitting in the glass ashtray and stood to greet the guest. He waved back the guards and embraced the slim man. Raditz almost engulfed the smaller and Turles believed he would suffocate him if he didn't reappear.

"It's a troubling time, Seventeen" Raditz said after to stepped back, "We had to take a few precautions"

"Give me back my weapons at least," Seventeen glared at the guards still behind him.

"No"

Turles let out the breath he had been holding ever since the mercenary entered the room. While his brother seemed to have always trusted the man, Turles had his own opinion. Never trust one who will just as easily bite you if offered a juicier steak. But this thought balanced with the knowledge that Seventeen in the past had had a run in with Raditz, at the wrong end of the bigger man's gun. Turles himself was too young to remember what happened and Raditz had never given chance to indulge him. He knew that Seventeen had given a part of himself to Raditz which he had shown no other. Not even his sister he trusted as he did the crime boss. This is why pain flickered across Seventeen's face at Raditz's denial.

"I have a job for you" Raditz said

At these words the guards bowed their heads and left the room, closing the doors behind them.

"You may return to Krillin and that circus of his if it means an arrival in West City by sun-up", Raditz continued and walked to the window. Turles started when he slid back the curtain with a finger to peek out towards the front gate, "I'm sure Krillin instructed you?"

"Of course" Seventeen replied

"So it seems the Master was much loved" Raditz said, "On the matter…"

"Close the curtain" Turles interrupted without hesitation for he was more worried about Raditz's head within clear view of the street rather then his infuriated eyes.

"As I was saying" Raditz ignored him, "On the matter of payment, it will be simply for protection of my Nephew, Goten and the execution of previously said plan"

"Sir, Krillin instructed me to not agree with any payment in hand. He wishes to be removed from his past debt to you", Seventeen said

Raditz now let the curtain drop and faced the mercenary. Many had asked to be removed from debt, none had been allowed. Turles wondered why they bother ask, for all knew that their debt would only be called in when Raditz saw fit. And Raditz stated so,

"His debt will not be erased now and you will take the payment alone. It is not a job under his control and if he has a problem with your absence I'll insure him"

Seventeen didn't flinch, "I've been strictly…"

"I've been strictly?", a cold voice echoed the fist which grabbed the mercenary's throat with no sign of letting go, "Do you think I'm strictly negotiable?!"

"N…no" Seventeen choked out and was shoved back, rubbing his throat.

"Anything happens to him and I'll slit your balls so far your twin will feel it"

* * *

1: Pan's age has been a wonder to me. I've been told that she is from 10-13 years younger then Goten and varieties beyond. So I made and used a convenient age. Since this is AU it shouldn't effect too much 


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